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section7mfuShort Affair 2/20
Prompt: Denial
Color: Purple
Title: Keep on Keeping On
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~690
Illya had been on a solo mission of his own when he’d heard the news of Napoleon’s mission having gone sour. His partner had been trying to help a young THRUSH scientist—barely 21 years old—defect and steal part of a vital formula that the young scientist had developed. Things had been going well until the scientist suddenly got cold feet and had attempted to take Napoleon prisoner, thinking that if he delivered U.N.C.L.E.’s top field agent to THRUSH Central, any and all attempts at defection would be forgiven.
But the trigger-happy scientist had come at Napoleon with a knife, and, to defend himself, Napoleon had to fight back, trying to get through to the man the entire time. But, in the struggle, while trying to push the scientist’s hand away, Napoleon inadvertently caused the young scientist to stab himself.
Though the formula was retrieved, the scientist lingered for a day in Medical before succumbing to the injury. Napoleon, extremely upset by this turn of events, had retreated to the apartment and had called in sick the next couple of days.
And so, when Illya had returned from his mission, he wasn’t surprised to return home to see Napoleon sitting glumly on the couch with purple bags under his eyes. He wasn’t drunk; indeed, he didn’t seem to have drunk anything at all, but he had clearly gone without sleep, and possibly without meals.
“I’m home,” Illya said, softly.
Napoleon was on his feet in an instant, and greeted his partner with a tight hug, which Illya returned.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” Illya observed.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Napoleon admitted. “I’m sure Mr. Waverly told you about it?”
“Da, he did. He also told me that you saved countless lives by retrieving the formula. He declares the mission a success—even though he knows that you do not.”
“That scientist was scared, Illya—he was young and scared. It wasn’t like he was trying to stab me in the back to double-cross us—he panicked. He was so scared, and I was just trying to defend myself, but the knife slipped…” Napoleon trailed off. “I should have been able to tranquilize him when I had the chance.”
“It is of no use to be in denial, Napoleon,” Illya said. “I read the report of the backup agent who was trying to come to your aid; he said you had no chance to tranquilize the scientist before he broke down and rushed at you. It was either you or him, Napoleon. And perhaps it is selfish and unprofessional of me, but if those were the choices, then I am glad that you were the one to survive.”
He didn’t bother to mention to Napoleon that he knew darn well that if Illya had been there with him and had been the one being attacked, Napoleon would have been the first one to defend him without thinking—without regretting the outcome. And, somewhere in the back of his mind, Napoleon knew that, too.
Napoleon tightened his embrace.
“I still wish it could have ended differently—with him and me both surviving.”
“Such is your noble wish,” Illya said. “But you and I both know that you cannot help everyone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And you will not be able to help others by dwelling on this lost case, either,” Illya said, softly. “Forgive me if I seem too matter-of-fact about this, but you must move on. It is what we do.”
“You don’t have to apologize; you say what needs to be said,” Napoleon said. “I think I’ll be alright now that you’re here.”
“I would like to be sure,” Illya said. “I shall order dinner to be delivered—you shall eat. And then you shall rest. And then, tomorrow, we are back to work.”
“…Remind me again, who outranks who?”
“While you are off on sick leave, I am acting CEA.”
“…Touché,” Napoleon said, with a smile. “Illya… Thank you.”
“Of course,” Illya responded. “Oh, and this time, dinner is on me.”
And soon, the apartment was filled with the smells and tastes of Mediterranean cuisine—and the sounds of two partners talking, and healing.
Prompt: Denial
Color: Purple
Title: Keep on Keeping On
Author: Rose of Pollux
Word Count: ~690
Illya had been on a solo mission of his own when he’d heard the news of Napoleon’s mission having gone sour. His partner had been trying to help a young THRUSH scientist—barely 21 years old—defect and steal part of a vital formula that the young scientist had developed. Things had been going well until the scientist suddenly got cold feet and had attempted to take Napoleon prisoner, thinking that if he delivered U.N.C.L.E.’s top field agent to THRUSH Central, any and all attempts at defection would be forgiven.
But the trigger-happy scientist had come at Napoleon with a knife, and, to defend himself, Napoleon had to fight back, trying to get through to the man the entire time. But, in the struggle, while trying to push the scientist’s hand away, Napoleon inadvertently caused the young scientist to stab himself.
Though the formula was retrieved, the scientist lingered for a day in Medical before succumbing to the injury. Napoleon, extremely upset by this turn of events, had retreated to the apartment and had called in sick the next couple of days.
And so, when Illya had returned from his mission, he wasn’t surprised to return home to see Napoleon sitting glumly on the couch with purple bags under his eyes. He wasn’t drunk; indeed, he didn’t seem to have drunk anything at all, but he had clearly gone without sleep, and possibly without meals.
“I’m home,” Illya said, softly.
Napoleon was on his feet in an instant, and greeted his partner with a tight hug, which Illya returned.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” Illya observed.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Napoleon admitted. “I’m sure Mr. Waverly told you about it?”
“Da, he did. He also told me that you saved countless lives by retrieving the formula. He declares the mission a success—even though he knows that you do not.”
“That scientist was scared, Illya—he was young and scared. It wasn’t like he was trying to stab me in the back to double-cross us—he panicked. He was so scared, and I was just trying to defend myself, but the knife slipped…” Napoleon trailed off. “I should have been able to tranquilize him when I had the chance.”
“It is of no use to be in denial, Napoleon,” Illya said. “I read the report of the backup agent who was trying to come to your aid; he said you had no chance to tranquilize the scientist before he broke down and rushed at you. It was either you or him, Napoleon. And perhaps it is selfish and unprofessional of me, but if those were the choices, then I am glad that you were the one to survive.”
He didn’t bother to mention to Napoleon that he knew darn well that if Illya had been there with him and had been the one being attacked, Napoleon would have been the first one to defend him without thinking—without regretting the outcome. And, somewhere in the back of his mind, Napoleon knew that, too.
Napoleon tightened his embrace.
“I still wish it could have ended differently—with him and me both surviving.”
“Such is your noble wish,” Illya said. “But you and I both know that you cannot help everyone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And you will not be able to help others by dwelling on this lost case, either,” Illya said, softly. “Forgive me if I seem too matter-of-fact about this, but you must move on. It is what we do.”
“You don’t have to apologize; you say what needs to be said,” Napoleon said. “I think I’ll be alright now that you’re here.”
“I would like to be sure,” Illya said. “I shall order dinner to be delivered—you shall eat. And then you shall rest. And then, tomorrow, we are back to work.”
“…Remind me again, who outranks who?”
“While you are off on sick leave, I am acting CEA.”
“…Touché,” Napoleon said, with a smile. “Illya… Thank you.”
“Of course,” Illya responded. “Oh, and this time, dinner is on me.”
And soon, the apartment was filled with the smells and tastes of Mediterranean cuisine—and the sounds of two partners talking, and healing.
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